Breakfast with an Orang Utan
by Magdala
Summary: Set around and before the brilliant THREE STORIES ... House was happy once, then cruelly hurt, now painfully damaged. Please review.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Breakfast with an Orang Utan

Author: Magdala

Rating: M for language and some sexual content HET

Summary: Stacy's return from her point of view.

Disclaimer: All characters are fully owned by the producers of House MD

BREAKFAST WITH AN ORANG UTAN - part one

NOTE: This is my first fanfic so I would appreciate feedback. I have not yet seen Stacy but sharing the common dislike of her character wondered about her impact on House and indeed his upon her. I am aware that Orang Utan can also be spelt as one word. I have chosen to present the name of this wonderful creature as they do in most zoos or primate care facilities.

_**It is discouraging how many people are shocked by honesty and how few by deceit. Noel Coward**_

"Why the hell couldn't you have been fashionably late, Stace?" asked James Wilson on that first day back in Princeton. His arm was round me, we were in his office and he was holding me as I dried my eyes with tissues from a box he held in his free hand. It wasn't the first time. I didn't need comforting before the infarction then afterwards everything had changed, first Greg shut me out and then he pushed me out. Jim had held me as I cried five years ago on the day I left the man I loved.

"Five minutes later and he would have started the lecture. Never mind you can't undo it now." he said, giving me a squeeze.

"You shouldn't have to do this"

"It's division of labor, Stacy. Greg makes women cry and I dry their tears."

"Then why do your wives leave you? You're such a catch"

"I guess I fail to notice the tears when I go home. I'm probably as rough on women as Greg in my own way."

My tears had stopped it was clean up time I took another tissue and started dabbing.

"I wouldn't have recognised him if you hadn't warned me."

"Sometimes I just catch a glimpse of him as he was before but no more than that. Sometimes there is a momentary smile or a familiar saying. But he doesn't go there, Stacy."

James was right Greg had changed. It was a shock as I watched him coming down the corridor towards reception. Crumpled and leaning heavily on his cane he could have passed as homeless. He looked fragile, tired as though he was carrying more than the burden of five years, it was more than pain. He was limping terribly but moving so fast the dark-haired doctor almost had to run to keep up with him. He snapped at her and she looked back as him with adoration. He used to hate that look. "Get me away from these people" he'd signal from across the room.

Responding to the memory. I heard myself say his name before I was ready.

"Greg."

He saw me, stopped and his body stiffened, his eyes shut tight as though he'd been hit by an unseen blow and he seemed to slump. When his eyes opened and again fixed on me they had grown cold as the arctic sea. It shouldn't have been like that. He looked unsteady staggered momentarily as he repositioned his weight onto his good leg.

"So what did you two talk about?"

"I know I told him about Mark"

Wilson took his arms away from me and walked round behind his desk. The warmth had left him.

"'Guess what, Greg. I'm married.' That what you said? "

"I don't remember."

"Oh God Stacy. Of course you remember"

That was the trouble I could remember. Every single damned word especially the words "I'm not sure I want him to live." Greg had tried to turn away but I stopped him. I think I touched him. Oh God he felt the same and oh God he smelt the same.

"Jim. He was wearing aftershave."

"Was there a woman with him young, slender, attractive?"

"Yes."

"That's Allison Cameron the immunologist he works with."

"You're trying to hurt me."

"You are married now. Didn't it occur to you that he might have moved on too?"

"Jim you're no good at hurting people. You don't have Greg's talent for it."

"Or yours for that matter." He said icily.

"Jim, he smells the same as he did before the infarction."

"The olfactory sensation is the most effective memory trigger there is."

"He was wearing the same type of aftershave as I gave him in Singapore"

Singapore oh God Singapore. How could I have forgotten that? How could I have shut that out?

"He's never mentioned Singapore."

Jim had managed to hurt me and when I'm hurt I retaliate. And this time I had ammunition something that Wilson had never known.

"Maybe Greg didn't want you to know about Singapore." I said preparing to leave. "Well it's too long a story to tell you now. I have to get back to Mark." I opened the door of the office.

"But I'm surprised he didn't tell you about how we had breakfast with an Orang Utan."

"Orang Utan?"

It was a relief to close the door on Wilson's questioning look before again succumbing to tears as the events in Singapore came flooding back.

I had blocked Singapore from my mind completely. Now I had remembered I had another problem. My husband, Mark.

Now, like Greg, I wasn't absolutely sure that I wanted Mark to live.

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_**I'll go through life either first class or third, but never in second. Noel Coward** _

The heat of Singapore with its spiced air enfolded me in the few steps from the exit door of Changi Airport to the airconditioned limosine. The uniformed chauffeur handed me a sealed envelope. I opened it as the car moved forward.

"Darling," Greg had written. "I am delighted you are here. Everything is organised for the next three days. I will meet you in the Long Bar at Raffles. I love you beyond all, Greg" Spontaneously, I smiled and kissed the note.

"Where are we going?" I asked the chauffeur.

"Raffles Hotel, ma'am." He replied.

"Could we stop on the way?" The suit I was wearing had been fine for the conference I had been attending in Sydney Australia but would smother me in Singapore. I needed to buy something light to wear quickly.

"Doctor House said I was to bring you directly from the airport. No stopping. My apologies, ma'am."

"Did he now." Typical.

"Sorry, ma'am."

It wasn't worth pursuing. If I demanded to stop if I told him to drop me at the nearest dress shop and I would complete the journey by cab it was the driver who would suffer. Either he would get a lecture from Greg or receive more serious repercussions from his employers. I could see from the tightening of his shoulders the Singaporean was worried.

"It's alright. I won't force you to stop," I said and he visibly relaxed. "Don't let Dr House frighten you."

"Doctor House is a very important man." Obviously Greg's conference here had really gone well. Greg hadn't said anything about it but Jim Wilson had sent me a couple of emails in Sydney with articles from the Straits Times lauding the brilliant American Nephrologist and diagnostician Gregory House. Apparently Greg hadn't told Jim that we were meeting up in Singapore before going onto London and home. I smiled to myself. It was good to have something that Wilson didn't know about. Sometimes that friendship seemed as stifling as the heat in Singapore.

How could I have forgotten my first sight of Greg in the Long Bar? He was wearing a light tropical weight suit with a crisp white shirt and the silk tie I had given him hopefully before he left the States. I didn't imagine he would ever wear it. He looked so right in the earthy splendour of this most famous of all colonial bars. Seeing me he stood a smile lighting up his face. I didn't notice anything or anyone as I went to meet him. In the time he had been here the sun had highlighted his hair and his skin had turned to honey. He had never appeared so handsome. He looked golden.

"Hello, you." he said and then his arms encircled me and we kissed. He guided me into the big cushioned rattan chair beside his and for the first time I noticed the two untouched pinkish red drinks on the table in front of him.

"It's not?"

"It is. You have to have a Singapore Sling in the bar where it was invented," he said handing me mine. Then we raised our glasses and clinked them. Then he looked at me very seriously "I love you, Stacy"

"And I love you" we drank. The Singapore Sling was not as wonderful as I had expected. Greg laughed.

"Leave it. You don't have to bow to every tradition"

"You are wearing a tie."

"That is because I choose to. I happen to care a lot for the person who gave it to me. Want to go up to the room?"

"Yep. I can't wait to get out of these clothes."

"I can't wait for you to get out of them either."

"But our drinks"

"Darling, couples have left unfinished Singapore Slings in this bar since 1913"

We stood and he took my hand. Then he held me with his extraordinary blue eyes.

"I hope you enjoy the honeymoon I've planned."

"But Greg we're not married."

"We don't have to do everything in the right order. We aren't like other people Stacy."

He placed his hand in the small of my back and guided me out of the Long Bar. I'd hardly sipped the Singapore Sling but I felt giddy and intoxicated just being so close to Greg. But of course that's how you should feel on your honeymoon.

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_**"Success took me to her bosom like a maternal boa constrictor." Noel Coward**_

It wasn't just a room, it was a suite. Noel Coward had stayed in that suite and it was named after him. I was astounded by it's fourteen foot high ceilings and amazing antiques and small items that had belonged the amazing British writer, composer, actor and wit. There was even a piano, which I assumed had belonged to Coward but discovered later the hotel had put in at Greg's request.

I unpacked all my private stuff and put it away and the valet was unpacking and hanging my clothes in the dressing room wardrobe when I noticed there were a lot more clothes than I had brought with me.

Greg explained "I put a couple of your favourites in my luggage and had them copied in different colours and weights here. I think customs thought I was a cross dresser"

"You'd make someone a good wife"

"It was the 'good wife' of one of the doctors I'd been corresponding with here who made the suggestion and organised the tailors."

"That suit. The one you are wearing now?"

"Tailor down in Orchard Road. You'd better like it. I've got six more."

"I love it."

There was nothing mean about Greg but I wasn't used to him splashing money about quite like this. He always knew what I was thinking. And answered my un-asked question.

"Everything yours and mine cost less than my Armani, and that thing you are wearing, I got a good deal on the suite and that is the last time we will mention money on this honeymoon. Understood?"

"Understood."

Picking up my toiletries and duty free bag I headed for the bathroom.

We were in the spa when Greg started reaching into my duty free bag I was massaging him with soles of my feet. I started with his right leg kneading with my toes following the lines of his well-defined muscles. God I loved his legs. They were so long and strong. An athletes legs. Just as he was expecting more I transferred my feet to his left leg.

"Chivas. Nice, thanks" he said referring to the duty free scotch.

"You're not having that on your own."

"And a boomerang"

"That's not for you. You know I don't trust you with sharp objects, That's for Jim"

'Wilson throws like a girl."

Greg flicked the boomerang to one side.

"I thought they were supposed to come back?"

"Guess you must have thrown it like a girl"

Then he came to a smallish gift wrapped box he looked at me his head on one side "For me?"

I nodded wishing I had got him something more interesting than aftershave.

My feet reached the top of his left leg and gently moved between his legs. Then suddenly the jet lag that had not hit me in Sydney combined with the jet lag I had accumulated on the flight to Singapore. I slipped down in the spa a little and Greg let out a yelp.

"Careful"

"Sorry"

"It's okay. I moved in time" Greg pulled me out of the spa, wrapped me in a huge fluffy white bath towel and carried me to the bedroom.

God how I loved him. How was it that this perfect, beautiful and clever man was mine and loved me as much as I loved him?

"This is the biggest bed I have ever seen in my life" I mumbled as he dried me off and covered me with the softest coolest linen I had ever felt in my life. His lips touched my shoulder and I fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Breakfast with an Orang Utan

Author: Magdala

Rating: M for language and some sexual content

Summary: Stacy's return

Disclaimer: All characters are fully owned by the producers of House MD

Breakfast with an Orang Utan Part Two.

_Someday I'll find you, Moonlight behind you, True to the dream I am dreaming. Noel Coward _

When I woke up it was dark. Turning my head on the pillow, looking out through the French windows across the verandah through the palm trees Singapore twinkled with lights. I could hear Greg playing the piano and singing in the next room and I drifted back into slumber.

Now as I drove through Princeton away from the PPTH I couldn't remember the song Greg had played half a world away. Recalling the Princeton Record Exchange I turned the car and headed for South Tulane.

"Do you have anything by Noel Coward? I'm looking for a special song."

"Mad Dogs and Englishmen?"

"No this was ... It was romantic."

"Are you thinking of 'I'll see you again'?"

"Doesn't sound like it. I can remember two lines I think. 'I'll leave you never ... love you forever' something like that"

"That's 'Someday I'll find You' you got the lines right"

"You are amazing!"

"Not really there was a guy on the phone asking about it earlier."

Greg it had to be Greg. I had to stop myself from asking how 'the guy on the phone' sounded and what he said. This young stranger didn't need me crying all over him.

"Do you want that on CD or vinyl."

"CD. I've got a player in the car. That's if the guy on the phone..."

"It's okay he wanted the vinyl."

So it was Greg. I paid for the Noel Coward Album nodded my thanks and left the store without saying another word. I was shaking by the time I got behind the wheel so I headed for the nearest Starbucks. As I asked for the House Blend I realised synchronicity was everywhere and opted for takeout.

I wasn't ready to face Mark I didn't even care if he was worried that I should have been back hours ago. So I drove to one of the spots in Princeton that Greg and I had loved, put the CD in it's slot selected the right track and started to drink the coffee.

How selective our hearing is when we are in love. And how incomplete is our memory when times have changed. I had remembered a simple love song and fixed on two lines. But as Noel Coward sang 'Someday I'll Find You' I realised was not just a simple love song. It predicted everything that happened to us from the end of that enchanted time away from home right up until the moment I was sitting alone in the car listening to the song carefully for the first time.

When one is lonely the days are long;

You seem so near

But never appear.

Each night I sing you a lover's song;

Please try to hear,

My dear, my dear.

Someday I'll find you,

Moonlight behind you,

True to the dream I am dreaming.

As I draw near you

You'll smile a little smile;

For a little while

We shall stand

Hand in hand.

I'll leave you never,

Love you for ever,

All our past sorrow redeeming:

Try to make it true,

Say you love me too,

Someday I'll find you again.

Can't you remember the fun we had?

Time is so fleet,

Why shouldn't we meet?

When you're away from me days are sad;

Life's not complete,

My sweet, my sweet.

Yes each night I had sung Greg a lover's song as I yearned for him. It wasn't until I was sure he absolutely didn't want to hear me that I started seeing Mark. It was not until I was sure he wouldn't ever try to hear that I married Mark. But I knew that when Greg listened to the words on vinyl he would not see it that way. "All our past sorrow redeeming" would not be acceptable to him. And if he remembered the fun we had it would only add to the burden he carried on that ruined leg.

I shut off the sound folded my arms over the steering wheel and buried my face in the crook of my elbow.

I wanted to get back to the memories and back to a happier time.

Greg had stopped playing he came into the bedroom sat on the edge of the enormous bed and switched on the bedside lamp. The sheet had fallen away and I was quite naked. He reached out and touched me. "Darling, You might like to put some clothes on."

I blinked unable to believe the sight before me. "Greg!" He was wearing a white tuxedo.

"I know I've gone troppo"

"I love it" I moved towards him and he took me in his arms the aroma of the aftershave filled my nostrils he smelt as wonderful as he looked.

"You smell wonderful" I murmured returning his kiss.

He caressed the length of my body with his left hand. I loved his hands. The speed, strength and sensitivity of his fingers, which drew such passionate music from the piano, could set my senses alight in seconds. His hands were so truly beautiful sometimes I would simply gaze at them.

Greg quickly lifted his hand away giving me a small tap on the bottom.

"Come on, Stacy. Up. Our visitors will be here in minutes."

"Visitors!"

"A few ex-pats and a Singaporean couple. They were going to take us out on a junk round the Harbour but when you were felled by jetlag we moved the feast here."

"God what am I going to wear?"

"I think you will find a little black number in the closet. We'll match"

And we did match. That was the way we were then.

I still have that dress it is floor length and bias cut in silk chiffon. It is the loveliest, most elegant, gown I have ever owned but I have not worn it in America. I might have worn it if Mark and I had gone to Paris but that didn't happen.

I looked at it just before we came to Princeton and realised it still carried the aroma of Greg and his aftershave but even when I buried my face in the fabric and wept I didn't think about Singapore. It was seeing Greg that had made those memories return.

Dance, dance, dance little lady, Leave tomorrow behind. Noel Coward

Our guests that evening in Singapore obviously valued Greg's intellect and enjoyed his wit. In Princeton jealousy of Greg's brilliance often created a barrier, colleagues were often afraid of his sarcasm and those who might have liked him held back seeing him only through the prism of his friendship with Wilson.

At the beginning of our relationship we were often invited to parties Greg was quite happy to play our host's untouched pianos simply to avoid boring smalltalk. Until one evening when someone put a twenty dollar note in the glass he'd just drained thinking he was the hired entertainer. After that he refused to play and the invitations diminished. But in Singapore Greg was not the only person who could play the piano after dinner Julian, the expat British micro-surgeon, went to the piano.

"I think I can manage a waltz Greg. You and Stacy should be dancing" he said.

'Tink' his Chinese wife whispered to me. "He plays almost as well as Greg. We are fortunate in our men. Those hands"

"Yes Oh yes." I said smiling back at her.

Greg came over and took my hand. "Let's go out on the verandah."

"No not outside. There'll be mosquitoes"

Suddenly everyone was laughing at me. "What have I said?"

"There are no mosquitoes in Singapore" Greg explained. "They were eradicated in the sixties."

"Then this really is paradise," I said.

Julian started to play Richard Rodgers famous Carousel Waltz and Greg swept me into his arms and danced me out onto the balcony.

"He's better than I am," said Greg listening to the piano. There was no trace of jealousy in his voice only appreciation.

"He thinks you are better than him" I said and Greg smiled.

In the time we had been together we had seldom danced and I was surprised that all I had to do was relax in Greg's arms and instinctively follow his lead. Our bodies were as one. There were a couple of flashes from a camera but I hardly noticed them. I didn't have to imagine what we looked like Greg in his white tuxedo and me in my glorious black dress. Our smiling guests were our mirror applauding us as the waltz came to an end.

While we were dancing they had decided they should leave so we could be alone together.

"It is after all your honeymoon," said Julian standing and stepping away from the piano. We kissed on both cheeks and they gave assurances if either of us needed anything we should just call.

After they had gone Greg and I stood hand in hand and looked at ourselves in the full length mirror in the dressing room.

"It's a shame to take all this off when we look so gorgeous" I said.

"Oh no it's not" declared Greg unzipping my dress.

We ran naked from the dressing room and literally dived onto the huge bed, which had been turned down. One of the chocolates bounced from pillow and landed between my breasts. Greg picked it up in his mouth and holding it between his teeth offered it to me with his kiss.

"You're still tired"

I nodded.

"Don't do anything. I'll do it alright"

"Oh. Yes"

Then his hands started to explore all the excitable areas of my body, his fingers flicking sensitive nerve endings with just the right speed and pressure. Yes Tink was right we were fortunate in our men. Those hands. Oh my God. Knowing I was close to orgasm. Greg slowed.

"What do you want?"

"I want you inside me."

He smiled then kissed my lips and then sucked on each of my nipples then his hands and fingers replaced his mouth on my breasts as he moved downward, preparing me. I was so ready so open to he that he was able to enter me with one deep sensational movement. I could feel the entire length of him within me moving gently at first almost withdrawing and then thrusting into me harder and harder.

"Keep going don't stop, don't stop..." he pinched and flicked my nipples in time to the rhythm of our movement my entire body was tensing and a flush of heat ran though me. I could see Greg above me looking down his face suddenly serious.

"I'm coming" I breathed and Greg exploded into me. We lay there entwined as aftershock after aftershock continued our pleasure.

My cell phone ringing brought me back to the present. Sitting alone in the car in Princeton. Reluctantly I put the phone to my ear.

"Hello." I said dully.

"Stacy, its Greg. I've got an opening for ten tomorrow morning. Make sure your husband isn't late."

"Greg. Greg" but it was too late he had severed the connection. He was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

"There isn't a particle of you that I don't know, remember, and want." - Noel Coward 

Greg selected only tropical fruit from the breakfast buffet. Paw paws, mango, rambutan, banana, mangosteen, starfruit and oranges.

"You'd better not have that smelly one"

"Durian?" he smiled "Raffles wouldn't let us back in. One whiff and they'd send us packing. Durian is banned in most hotels in Singapore. They wouldn't serve it at the zoo to a bunch of tourists." He had noticed a large group of people milling at the entrance of the pagola.

"Darling go and sit down at the table with our stuff. I'll get the coffees" taking his plate of fruit and my toast and marmalade I went and sat down front row centre. The throng entered securing tables and hitting the buffet with the precision of locusts. Two elderly ladies who had not been fast enough to hold their own with the crowd wandered towards the one empty table. Just in front of us.

"Greg." I said.

But with a cup of coffee in each hand he was already with them. He explained whose the table it was and escourted them back to our table where he assisted them into the two spare chairs.

"How embarrassing?" said the older thinner one.

"Oh yes. You are kind" said her plump companion. They had very refined English voices and with their sunhats and long floaty dresses looked as though they had stepped out of a Merchant Ivory movie.

"How silly of us. Are you sure you don't mind us joining you?"

"Of course not," I said quickly not trusting Greg to answer.

"You're welcome" he said.

"They will have a story" he said as the two women went off get their breakfast. "Women that age don't travel to places like this unless there is a story."

The slender woman who introduced herself as Philippa had chosen fruit like Greg and her companion who was called Audrey had bacon and eggs. Greg collected a tray for them containing two pots of tea and cups and saucers, longlife milk, and slices of lemon.

Phillipa looked first at Greg and then at me. "Honeymoon?"

"Phillipa" said Audrey. "You are outrageous"

"How did you guess?" asked Greg.

"I didn't need to guess. Anyone can see the two of you are in love."

I had seen the way that Greg responded to old ladies before. Gentlemanly and flirtatious he seemed to see them as they understood themselves, treating them as though they had never grown old and were yet to see their thirtieth birthday.

A gasp went around the tables as Ah Meng the most famous Orang Utan in the world entered she was walking using three limbs a remaining hand holding onto the tiny baby slung over her shoulder. There were two keepers with her and as soon as she had sat on the chair at the table opposite us one of them served her with a breakfast. A plate of fruit almost identical to Greg and Philippa's chosen breakfasts.

"Who can doubt the Darwinian theory?" said Greg looking at Ah Meng in awe as she swung the tiny baby Orang to her lap. "Doesn't she make you proud to be a primate."

"Her name is Ah Meng" said Phillipa.

"She is regarded as a great ambassador of Singapore." added Audrey.

"Look at that baby. Isn't it just perfect." I said.

"She's a little girl. Are you getting maternal, darling?" Greg asked, not taking his eyes of the baby, while lifting my hand to his lips.

I laughed but it was no joke. For the last few months my biological clock had, not just been ticking it had, been chiming.

The tiny creature reached out a little hand to feel the shape of the star fruit Ah Meng was holding. Her round liquid eyes were filled with wonder and surprise. It was extraordinary to think that small cherub's face would broaden until the eyes looked small and close together or the smooth baby flesh would thicken and darken with tiny fingers curling into hard leathery hands and that in a few years she would weigh over two hundred pounds.

The keepers announced that people wishing to be photographed with Ah Meng should form a line.

"Women and children first" said Greg. Almost all the other tables were vacated as the tourists grappled for position in the queue. Phillipa looked at the tourists in mild amusement.

"Noel Coward said 'But why, oh why, do the wrong people travel, when the right people stay at home?'" said Phillipa "You two are probably to young to have heard of Noel Coward."

Greg smiled and quoted back at her "'I am over educated in the the things I shouldn't have known at all.' Yes Phillipa, we have both heard of Noel Coward"

"I apologise. When you are over eighty sometimes it seems as though you have to explain everything you say."

Greg put his hand over hers to indicate she had nothing to apologise for. Phillipa looked at his hand and suddenly had to blink away tears.

"Sorry," she said "Your hands remind me of my husband's hands."

Greg turned to me "Give me the camera I'll photograph you girls with Ah Meng and the baby" I handed him the camera and he turned to Phillipa "Okay. Phillipa you first." He guided her to the queue which was thinning out. As one of the keepers sat Phillipa down beside the huge Orang Utan Greg spoke to the other and Audrey explained her friends tears to me.

"Her husband died here in Changi prison camp in World War II. This will be her last visit to Singapore. She's dying now."

"She never married again?"

"She was never able to love someone as much."

If only I had remembered. If only I had just a part of Phillipa's wisdom. If only I had listened to Audrey when she said, "My dear, don't let anything or anyone come between you and Greg. You hold onto that dear man for life."

I was so arrogant then so self-confident. It didn't occur to me that anything or anyone could split us up but of course I didn't realise then that my love for Greg would become the instrument of our destruction.

In the middle of the night, at a Princeton Hotel in the bed I was sharing with my sick husband Mark Warner, a sob escaped my lips. I buried my face in the pillow and tried to cry silently. Mark put his arm around me not knowing I didn't want to be touched.

Thinking he was comforting me he said, "I'm fine."

"Don't say that" I screamed at him. "Don't use those words"

I hated him for unknowingly plariarising Greg. "I'm fine" were Greg's words. They were the words Greg had used to lock me out of his life. "I'm fine" were the two words I never wanted to hear again. They were the two words that could cut deeper than any blade and that I feared more than anything in the world.

"But I am fine. Really," said Mark.

"Shut up." I sobbed. "Just shut the hell up."

We would be seeing Greg in the next few hours and somehow I had to keep it all together.

"I'm an enormously talented man, and there's no use pretending that I'm not." - Noel Coward 

Greg signalled me to join him and handed me the camera. I was surprised.

"Didn't you think I'd want to do something this touristy?" he asked.

"No I didn't"

He gave me a wink then he joined Ah Meng and the baby. The Orang appeared so bored so utterly fed up with the tourists playing musical chairs beside her and the persistent flashes from cameras.

But then Greg started to speak in another language. Ah Meng looked at him. Was it surprise was it love? I didn't know but she reached out and very gently put her enormous arm around him. I was worried but the keeper smilingly reassured me.

I was so pleased I put the camera to my eye again because I clicked it at the exact moment that Ah Meng handed the baby Orang Utan to Greg. A gasp went around the tourists and then a breathless hush.

I tried to keep taking photographs but I just wanted to watch as the little fingers of the baby traced Greg's smile checked out his hair and felt his unshaven chin. She blinked as she looked in his blue eyes then she became fascinated with his fingers and hands picking up his right hand in her two small hands she sniffed it and then she seemed to kiss it. All the time Greg spoke to Ah Meng in the language she understood.

Greg nodded his head slowly and stopped talking. Ah Meng retrieved the baby and the keeper stepped forward and lifted Ah Meng arm from Greg shoulder so he could get up. Before turning to me he thanked them, shook hands with both the keepers and finally with Ah Meng herself.

Greg joined me putting his arm around me and pulling me to him. "I want to take Phillipa and Audrey back in our car."

I nodded in agreement "She's ..." I was about to tell him Phillipa was dying.

"I know." he said. And we went back to the table Audrey and Phillipa looked at him with admiration.

"I didn't expect you to speak Malay" said Phillipa.

"I don't really. I simply figured a Sumatran Orang Utan in Singapore would have much use for American English"

The keepers said goodbye to the tourist and Ah Meng got of the chair and taking the baby by one arm casually slung the little mite over her shoulder.

"Good Lord," said Audrey "that was less than gentle"

"That baby can take it believe me. She's strong" as the tourists started to vacate the pergola several of them came past our table.

"Geez that was the coolest thing, mate" said a kid from Australia "This is me girlfriend Keira"

"And this is Stacy"

"G'day Stace"

Then there was an Indian, formal in his assessment that holding the Orang Utan was an act of great personal courage. people shook his hand and others clapped him on the back. They were all heading for the reptile show and wanted us to go with them.

"Why don't we take the tram" said Greg feigning tiredness so Phillipa could keep up with him. The tram looked more like a toy train and Greg helped Phillipa on board and sat beside her while Audrey and I took the seat opposite facing them.

"Did you two come to the zoo in the tourist bus?" asked Greg.

Phillipa nodded. "It was very nice"said Audrey.

"We have a car and chauffeur waiting for us at the gates" I said and stopped not sure what Greg had in mind.

"We hoped you two would be our guests for lunch at our hotel. We're staying at Raffles"

"Raffles!" said Audrey as though she had just received an invitation to Buckingham Palace.

"Really. We couldn't impose it's your honeymoon you don't need a couple of old ladies hanging around" said Phillipa.

"We do. Really" I said.

"I'm not known for my social skills Phillipa you interest me. And besides we're staying in the Noel Coward suite."

Phillipa smiled "Then thank you. We would be delighted wouldn't we, Audrey?"

"Oh yes. You know Phillipa knew the Master."

"I was no more than an slight acquaintance. I doubt if he knew my name." said Phillipa correcting her enthiastic friend.

"Alright girls. What do you want to do? Go to the hotel or see the reptile show?"

Audrey shivered "I don't know about reptiles. Snakes frighten me."

Phillipa laughed "I rather like them"

It was Phillipa who put up her hand when the reptile handlers asked for a volunteer. She was fearless, holding all manner of snakes but Greg went to her aid the moment he saw the handler holding up a large python. "Phillipa you can't it's too heavy for you" and he took most of the weight of the huge South American boa constrictor. It was one of the best photographs I took all day almost as good as the ones with Greg and the baby Orang Utan. They were the happy photographs. He was right about Phillipa, she had a story. A daughter of the Raj she was in Singapore when it fell to the Japanese in 1942. She had been a prisoner of war. I watched fondly as Greg fell in friendship with that wonderful brave woman who was old enough to be his grandmother.

I had fallen in love with Greg because he could surprise me. I loved him so much. I really believed that we he would continue to surprising me even as we grew old together. If only I had been brave. If I had been I would have stayed.

_**"Trust your instincts. If you have no instincts, trust your impulses." - Noel Coward**_

Waking, it took a moment to realise I was in Princeton. Mark was up.

"What time is it?

Mark smiled like he had won a point "Nine thirty"

"Why didn't you wake me? We have that appointment at ten." I said scrambling out of bed wrapping the sheet around my body and pulling it after me.

"No we haven't. I've decided I'm not going" he said triumphantly.

"What!"

"I'm not going."

"That's just stupid. Don't you realise there are people all over the country who would pay anything for an appointment with Gregory House."

"That's why I'm not going? Who knows what your ex-lover's fee will be?"

"You are being ridiculous."

"I'll bet he'd expect me to watch." I hated it when Mark started to talk like that. The smutty conversation and sexual slurs were all part of the change in him. Part of the illness and, whatever that illness was, I knew I could trust Greg to work it out and cure him.

"Please don't be like that, Mark."

"Like what? Have you screwed him yet? Have you already paid the fee?"

"Shut up. Just shut up"

"Is that why you were out half the day yesterday?"

He shoved me down on the bed and held me there as he climbed on top of me.

"Mark. Stop it."

"Or what. You'll scream 'Rape' ... you're my God-damned wife Stace" He climbed off angrily and turned away from me.

"Bitch" he muttered.

I said nothing when he was like this there was no reasoning with him. All I could do was wait.

"So what is the great doctor like in bed? Better than me? Bigger than me?"

He knew I would never tell him however many times he asked. Sometimes I wondered if he had guessed the answer but I knew if I ever told him our marriage would end. Greg was the best lover I ever had before or since but that part of him did not return from the hospital after the infarction.

I picked up the sheet and, unnoticed by Mark, grabbed the cell-phone and headed for the bathroom.

"I need to take a shower" I said and with relief locked the door on his anger. I turned the shower on full belt and then dialled Greg's office. A woman answered giving her name as Dr Cameron. "This is Stacy Warner. May I speak to Dr.House please?"

I could almost hear her smile and she obviously took a certain amount of pleasure in saying "I'm sorry. Dr House isn't available at the moment, Mrs Warner. But I see he has your husband calendered for ten. Is there anyway I can help you?"

"We are going to have to re-schedule that appointment."

"Oh?"

I wasn't going to let the girl get away with that proprietorial attitude. I spoke in the sweetest tones but left her in not doubt about my place in Greg's life.

"If you could just let Greg know that we cannot make it at ten, Dr Cameron.' I said, "I'll be talking to Greg later and we can sort out another time then. Thank you for being so helpful. Bye now." I hung up deciding to call Greg at home. There was no way I was going to deal with his gatekeepers.

I stepped into the shower. Shutting my eyes I just let the water run over me and thought of Greg. We had always showered together he was so tall that in my bare feet the top of my head was only just above his shoulders. We would wash each other lovingly and carefully not missing a single crevice or fold. There was nothing I wanted to hide from him and nothing he wished to hide from me, I adored the feel of his body and he cherished mine. Finally he would shampoo my hair working it into a rich lather as he massaged my scalp with his long, strong fingers.

I couldn't get Phillipa out of my mind even when we stepped into the shower in the Noel Coward suite. Only ten minutes earlier we had farewelled Phillipa and Audrey on the front steps of Raffles we had organised for our chauffeur to drive them back to The Mandarin on Orchard Road where they were staying. "Why would she travel with someone like Audrey?" I asked.

"She's old, she's dying, she's has no one of her own and choices are few. She couldn't travel alone. Not anymore."

"How long has she got?"

"Not long. Days, weeks maybe a year." he paused as he poured a measure of shampoo onto my head and we sat together on the floor of shower as he massaged the liquid into a lather. "Darling."

I leant back into his chest using his thighs like armrests. "Yes."

"I think we should take her to Changi tomorrow. She will be saying goodbye for the last time."

"I was hoping you'd say that." I said turning my head around and snuggling into his chest. We didn't bother to dry off or go the the bedroom we made love on the cool marble floor of the shower as water from eight jets danced off our bodies.


	4. Chapter 4

"Let's drink to the spirit of gallantry and courage that made a strange Heaven out of unbelievable Hell, and let's drink to the hope that one day this country of ours, which we love so much, will find dignity and greatness and peace again." - Noel Coward

On September 11, 2001 everyone in America needed to speak to the person they loved and I was no different. I had left Greg a year before and every day was difficult. Every night I worried about Greg even though I knew I could not help him and if I tried to go back then, I thought, I would be beyond help.

On that tragic day, as I saw each of the towers of the World Trade Centre fall and fall repeatedly over and over again on every television channel, as the horror mounted I wanted to talk to Greg and be with Greg. The terrible events of that day in New York and Washington made those that had split us up seem diminished and relatively unimportant. I thanked God that Greg was still alive and was sure now he must feel the same. I dialled his number.

"This is Dr Gregory House if you think your message is of genuine importance leave it with the date and your contact details after the tone. If I consider your message is of genuine importance I will return your call. Goodbye." His voice seemed to be edged with pain and anger. He had changed the recording on the voice-mail, When I left, my welcoming and friendly message had remained, a friend in Princeton said Greg left it there for months. What I heard in Greg's recorded voice frightened me and I hung up without leaving a message.

The moment I hung up the phone rang. I picked it up. "Hello."

"Stacy. It's Mark Warner. Are you okay?"

"I guess. Oh Mark. This is so horrible." When Mark and I had met about two months before I hadn't been ready for a new relationship but on the night of September 11, 2001 I didn't want to be alone. Less than six months later we were married. I knew I was not in love but for the next few years I thought I was happy.

Then Mark changed. He was ill but the doctors unable to find anything wrong washed their hands of him and regarded me as nothing more than a nuisance. As Mark's mood changes became more worrying and his nausea and fainting spells more frequent I realised there was only one answer. Greg House was my husband's only hope.

I told myself it would be alright, that enough time had passed, that seeing Greg again would be easy but it wasn't. With two words Greg made me realise not one thing had changed between us in five years. The two words were heartbreaking and simple.

Greg just said "Hi. Stacy." and he had said everything.

I hadn't been out of the shower long when Mark lay down on the bed and fell asleep. Sleep often followed a burst of anger and sometimes was a relief. Leaving a note for Mark explaining I had gone shopping and to call my cell if he was worried, I went to meet Wilson who was waiting for me in the lobby.

Wilson took me to a quiet restaurant where he had booked a discreet corner table. First we ordered and then he told me about the lecture Greg had given the day before. "Stacy. Only the most naive student would have failed to realise that case history was his story. At the end everyone was there even Cuddy. The lecture went twenty minutes over."

"Surely everyone knows what happened."

"They see his limp. Sometimes he cannot hide the fact he's in pain but everyone knows better than to ask about his condition. Yesterday was the first time he had talked about it. He talked about things he has never told me."

"How did they react? The people at the lecture?" I asked

"If a pin had dropped it would have sounded like a thunder clap."

"Oh my God. Is he alright?"

"I think so. He phoned you right afterwards to say he would take your husband's case."

"Yes but he didn't stay on the line long enough for us to speak. Then Mark refused to see him this morning."

"I worked that out. You must re-schedule." he adamant.

"I will if I can get past the gatekeeper."

"He has no feelings for Dr Cameron. I was lying"

"I know. I knew that yesterday."

"You can use me as an intermediary, Stacy" said Wilson putting his hand over mine. Then I realised what had happened.

"He talked about me in the lecture didn't he?"

Wilson nodded. "He didn't name you. But he remembered you saying you were sorry as he went into the coma."

"What else did he remember?" As Wilson told me I realised that despite the agony and the drugs Greg had remembered everything we had said to each other just as I remembered. He remembered me asking if he would give up his leg to save my life and the way he answered 'Of course I would.' When I begged him to let them cut off the leg I never forgot the way he said 'I can't ... I can't. I'm sorry' even though he knew the pain could kill him. When he asked me to talk to the doctor he trusted me to represent his feelings. He did not expect to wake from the coma. When he told me he loved me he thought he was saying goodbye.

Wilson handed me a freshly laundered crisply ironed white handkerchief from his pocket.

"You should have brought me somewhere cheaper where they have paper napkins?" I said wiping my eyes.

"I suppose he told them all about the health proxy? How I'd betrayed him and how much he hates me?"

"He doesn't hate you. Stacy. He loves you. He has never stopped loving you"

"Please don't say that. You cannot say that."

"What do you want me to say?" he said. I looked at him in astonishment.

"Jim. This is not a case of what I want you to say. Don't you get it? I'm married."

"I know that Stacy. I know what it is to be married."

"Really."

"Alright I am pre-divorce. Again."

"Well I'm not pre-divorce. I didn't come here to ruin my life or my marriage. I came here so my husband can get a proper diagnosis."

"And of all the gin-joints in all the world ... it's all a bit Casablanca, Stacy."

"No it isn't ... and it's not Girl's Gone Wild' either"

I could have kissed the waiter for arriving with the meal at that moment. Our wineglasses were replenished we had smiled our approval of the presentation of the food and alone again fell into an awkward silence.

"So are you going to tell me about the Orang Utan?" Wilson asked.

"It's not really my story to tell" I replied.

Wilson looked hurt, shut out, but not by me, by Greg.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was Greg's story as much as it was mine and it was Phillipa's story and it was Audrey's story too.

I thought at first it must have been the influence of Raffles Hotel but instead of phoning Phillipa at the Mandarin he sat down opened Noel Coward's writing desk and took a single sheet of letterhead and wrote.

Dear Phillipa,

If you would not consider it an intrusion Stacy and I would be honored to accompany you and Audrey to Changi tomorrow. We can either pick you up at the Mandarin or arrange for our car to collect you for breakfast at Raffles before setting out. If you need to do this alone please at least take the car.

I enclose the photographs of you and Audrey with Ah Meng and the baby, you and I together festooned with pythons and a shot of Stacy and myself dancing the night away on the verandah here.

Please call me when you decide what you want to do.

Affectionately,

Greg.

He rang for the butler and within minutes the sealed letter and photographs together with flowers from the Raffles florist were on their way to Orchard Road.

"Don't look so amazed, darling"

"But I am. Where did all this come from? Little notes, flowers?"

"It's no fun breaking the rules if you don't know what they are. I did etiquette 101 here in Singapore" He pulled me down to the piano stool beside him. "I was only a kid seven or something. My father was on his first tour of duty in Nam and had a week R&R and was meeting up with Mom and I here."

"Raffles?"

"No. Out at HMS Terror the British Navy Shore Base that used to be near the Causeway. We were staying in quarters with a RN Commander and his wife. Dad knew them somehow. Anyhow Mom went out to get her hair done and didn't realise it was scrub day. The Amah had soap suds from one end of the quarter to the other. In came Mom all excited, with her arms full of shopping, stepped out onto the soapy tiled floor slipped and wham. Her shoulder was shattered. She was in hospital for over three weeks I hardly saw Dad."

"What happened to you?"

"I stayed with the Commander's wife and her husband went to sea."

"That's terrible"

"No it wasn't. She was just like Phillipa, you know a genuine bonefide lady. She treated me more like a friend than a kid. She had no kids of her own but used to say she could remember being a child herself ... couldn't get a thing past her."

"You had no kids around your own age?"

"Yeah I used to swim with them at the Officers Club. Stuck up little brats. I learnt to dive. Played soccer, all that kid stuff. But it was my hostess who taught me that life should be fun which was in direct opposition to my Dad's opinion."

"She took me all over the island. We ate satay at little Makan stalls which were like a bicycle with a kitchen up front. We visited all sorts of people in their houses, some were like palaces, some were squalid hovels but everyone liked her. When we got home in the evening the first thing she would do was sit down and write 'thank you notes' to everyone we had met. At first I just licked the envelopes and then she taught me how to write my own."

"Did she teach you to dance."

"No ... not really. My mother beat her to that. My father was in the military. Dancing comes with the territory for a career officer."

"And your parents expected you to go into the Military?"

"Yes of course. It was a lost cause. Six weeks here had changed me forever. My imagination and curiosity had come alive. Imagination and curiousity are not highly prized by people who expect you to follow orders without question."

I laughed I knew how Greg regarded orders.

"What else did you learn here?" I asked.

"I learnt that some of the glamorous women I saw around the streets were sometimes boys and they were called Catamites. I learnt that the Brits knew the Raj was over and that we Americans would think we should be the next Raj. And I learnt how the Brits could laugh at their own idiocy."

He opened the piano placed his hands on the keys and played a familiar introduction

"I learnt this song here. Our hostess gave me the sheet music signed by Noel Coward himself as a parting gift. I never wanted to go home." Sitting beside him I watched his hands dance across the keys and felt his body move as he sang. I was surprised he sang with a British accent but realised it was how he was taught the song as a small child.

MAD DOGS AND ENGLISHMEN

by Noel Coward

In tropical climes there are certain times of day

When all the citizens retire to tear their clothes off and perspire.

It's one of the rules that the greatest fools obey,

Because the sun is much too sultry

And one must avoid its ultry-violet ray.

The natives grieve when the white men leave their huts,

Because they're obviously, definitely nuts!

Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun,

The Japanese don´t care to, the Chinese wouldn´t dare to,

Hindus and Argentines sleep firmly from twelve to one

But Englishmen detest-a siesta.

In the Philippines they have lovely screens to protect you from the glare.

In the Malay States, there are hats like plates which the Britishers won't wear.

At twelve noon the natives swoon and no further work is done,

But mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun.

It's such a surprise for the Eastern eyes to see,

that though the English are effete, they're quite impervious to heat,

When the white man rides every native hides in glee,

Because the simple creatures hope he will impale his solar topee on a tree.

It seems such a shame when the English claim the earth,

They give rise to such hilarity and mirth.

Ha ha ha ha hoo hoo hoo hoo hee hee hee hee ...

Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun.

The toughest Burmese bandit can never understand it.

In Rangoon the heat of noon is just what the natives shun,

They put their Scotch or Rye down, and lie down.

In a jungle town where the sun beats down to the rage of man and beast

The English garb of the English sahib merely gets a bit more creased.

In Bangkok at twelve o'clock they foam at the mouth and run,

But mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun.

Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun.

The smallest Malay rabbit deplores this foolish habit.

In Hong Kong they strike a gong and fire off a noonday gun,

To reprimand each inmate who's in late.

In the mangrove swamps where the python romps

there is peace from twelve till two.

Even caribous lie around and snooze, for there's nothing else to do.

In Bengal to move at all is seldom ever done,

But mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun.

I laughed and he laughed.

"You must have been a very strange child?" I said.

He nodded.

"Was this where you decided to become a doctor?"

"Yes."

Then Greg took me shopping and that was when he bought me the ring.


	5. Chapter 5

BREAKFAST WITH AN ORANG UTAN - Part Five

"That strange feeling we had in the war. Have you found anything in your lives since to equal it in strength? A sort of splendid carelessness it was, holding us together." - Noel Coward

The first person I showed the ring to was Phillipa when we picked her and Audrey up at their hotel to take them to Changi. Phillipa said she thought it was lovely Audrey said it reminded her of Princess Diana's engagement ring.

The ring was beautiful. A square dark sapphire surrounded by diamonds. I had passed it by thinking it was too expensive and chose a smaller solitaire diamond which was left to be resized for me. Greg kissed me as he slid the ring onto my finger and when I finally looked down. I saw the magnificent sapphire.

"That was the one you wanted?"

"Yes ... But ... Darling."

"No mention of money. You agreed"

"Does this mean we are engaged?"

"Only if you will marry me. Otherwise all it is, is a ring."

"I'll marry you. There is nothing else I want so much."

I kissed him and clung to him and I kept looking at him. He looked golden, absolutely golden. He seemed so complete here in the tropics, so happy, so at ease.

Looking up from the ring Phillipa smiled at us

"You are a golden couple" Phillipa seemed to be reading my mind. "I want you both to be so happy" but there was a sadness in her voice. We were pulling up at Changi where Phillipa young husband had died over half a century ago.

We all went though the new Changi museum to the replica of a tiny chapel which had been part of Changi Prison Camp. Greg and I hung back standing near the entrance of the open-air chapel as the two old women went forward to the first pew. Greg put his arm around me as Phillipa and Audrey knelt and prayed. Phillipa had difficulty rising and Greg stepped foreward to support her. I noticed tears in her eyes.

Greg nodded to Audrey signalling that he would stay with Phillipa to the car.

It was the first time her illness was obvious to me. Greg was concerned.

"I think we should get you back to the hotel."

"No" she was determined "No we need to go to Changi Beach."

"Not today. Maybe tomorrow." said Greg.

"It has to be today. Today is Thursday. I can't come here on a Friday. They hang people here on Fridays" She was determined and closed to tears

"What?" I said.

"Changi Beach ... the memorial plaque" Greg instructed the driver. His arm remained around Phillipa and she sat where I had been sitting while I moved in beside Audrey.

"They have the death penalty in Singapore." said Greg sourly, answering my question.

"It's barbaric. You would think there had been enough death on this island and enough death in Changi" said Phillipa.

"Sorry" said Audrey, "I know you have the death penalty in The United States."

"And it's just as barbaric." said Greg.

"Yes" Greg knew I shared his feelings. There have been no executions in New Jersey since 1976 but having the law on the statutes was bad enough.

Changi Beach was an idyllic stretch of white sand it was beautiful and young, healthy people played in the azure water or sort shade under the trees and the beach pergolas.

I was surprised when Audrey elected to remain in the airconditioned car when we stopped. I kept her company and together we watched as Greg escourted Phillipa to the plaque. They were a while we could see Phillipa talking while Greg nodded and listened.

"You wouldn't believe this was a killing field in 1942 would you?" said Audrey. "This is where they carried out operation Sook Ching the massacre of the Singaporean Chinese. Many people who had been like family to Phillipa died here."

"I don't suppose any of those people having such a good time know the history of this place?" said Audrey turning her attention to those frolicking on the beach.

We saw Phillipa break down into tears and Greg gently take her in his arms holding her tenderly as he had often held me. I knew how comforting it would have been to Phillipa feeling his strong arms, resting against his hard chest and hearing the steady beat of his heart. I smiled, loving him more at that moment than ever before, seeing his kindness and compassion enfold this dear, brave old lady.

I realised that Audrey was weeping almost silently beside me. Our driver handed a box of tissues to me and I nodded my thanks as I handed them to Audrey. She quickly dried her eyes.

"I'm sorry" she said.

"It's alright."

"Thank you both for being here now, today. I couldn't give her the right support."

"Audrey you would have been fine." I said reassuringly but Audrey was digging in the bag they had brought with them and wasn't listening to me. She pulled out an ancient photo album opening it with ease at the exact page she wanted there against the yellowed grey of the page were six, 4x3 white bordered, black and white photos held in place by black paper corner stickers. They were photographs of Phillipa's wedding in 1941. Even in the tiny photographs I could see how her long dead husband looked like a younger innocent version of Greg House.

"His name was Andrew. They were married here in Singapore. Andrew, the handsome Army officer and Phillipa the beautiful planters daughter. In 1941 they were known here as the golden couple."

The first photograph showed the young Army officer with the planters daughter leaving the church under an archway of crossed swords held aloft by members of his regiment. The next was the bridal party standing on the steps of the church. Then the arrival for the wedding reception at Raffles Hotel. Phillipa and Andrew both holding the hilt of the sword as they cut the wedding cake. The bride and groom dancing together in the Raffles Ballroom. And finally a photograph of a huge tree, the couple in their going away clothes hardly visible as they stood together against the broad trunk.

"That was the famous Changi Tree. It was over 250 feet high and it's trunk was more than 11 foot six inches in diameter." I remembered fragments from the book in our suite "The Fall of Singapore". I recalled the line "When the tree fell Singapore fell..." and then "On the 15th February 1942 an eerie silence descended over Singapore. The fighting had stopped, the British commander in Singapore had surrendered. For 50,000 allied soldiers the war was over, and they became prisoners of the Japanese."

"Why didn't they try to get away? They must have known." I asked Audrey.

"Winston Churchill said it would be bad for morale to evacuate British Nationals and empty ships were allowed to leave Singapore Harbour" She said with disgust.

"We never hear about that sort of thing."

"Well the men who make the wars happen. The men who give the big orders are out of harms way in their safe offices and bunkers so far away from the warzone. They don't even have to admit their mistakes and they can lock away or embargo the evidence for thirty years or fifty years or as long as they like?" there was a quiet anger in Audrey's voice. For the first time I could see why Phillipa welcomed her friendship.

"On the 13th of February 1942, two days before the fall of Singapore, the British Government finally conceded to the evacuation of civilians. Phillipa's husband was one of those who organised the evacuation somehow in one day they loaded thirty-three ships with women and children. I can't imagine what it was like for Phillipa or what it was like for Andrew having to say goodbye to his wife and child."

"Child? They had a baby?"

"A son named Andrew after his father. Don't mention him unless Phillipa talks about him."

I looked at her I think I knew what was coming.

"The Japanese were waiting and the flotilla came under fierce naval bombardment immediately by the next morning huge numbers of the women and children were dead. Phillipa was on one of the ships that sunk. She was in the water for hours surrounded by the dead and dying and during that time little Andrew was hit by scrapnel and killed." said Audrey.

"Oh my God." It was all I could say. I was so glad Greg was with Phillipa, holding her, caring for those untended wounds of war.

"Phillipa survived and spend the rest of the war incarcerated as a prisoner of war. Phillipa never saw her husband again although at the time he died they were both in Changi prison camp. They couldn't have been more than about 200 yards away from each other and the women could often hear the cries of the men being tortured"

"Phillipa thought she heard Andrew screaming her name just before dawn one morning." Greg told me later his eyes filling with tears and the thought of that scream chilled my blood.

I could not know then that I would so soon hear Greg screaming in pain, or see him writhe with each wave of agony. I couldn't understand why he refused amputation. I watched in terror as he prepared himself for death. While Greg fought the pain of the infarction I wondered what Phillipa would have done if she had been in my place. I wished I could telephone her and get her advice but of course I couldn't.

Phillipa had died that night in Singapore. Just a few hours after she had said her last goodbyes at Changi. Greg was holding her hand as she left us forever.


	6. Chapter 6

BREAKFAST WITH AN ORANG UTAN - Part Six

"To know you are among people whom you love, and who love you - that has made all the successes wonderful, much more wonderful than they'd have been anyway." - Noel Coward.

Phillipa must have known something. She wanted to be cremated in Singapore and her ashes to be scattered over the Malacca Straits. She had arranged everything, done all the paperwork and got all the necessary permissions before leaving London. They were all in a neat folder she had entrusted to Audrey.

"I'm sorry" said Greg as he rescheduled his arrangements to remain for the funeral. "I don't understand this it's as though I've known Phillipa all my life."

"I wish I could stay too." We made love all the afternoon as though we wanted to remind ourselves that we were alive. I had just packed a enough for a few days in London and all my clothes from Singapore with the exception of the black evening dress which I was taking with me would be shipped direct to Princeton. We didn't want to seperate and in the end the shower was rushed and less than thorough.

Audrey said goodbye to me in the foyer of Raffles and handed me an envelope which I stuffed into my purse and instantly forgot.

We didn't even notice the car was going down the same streets we had gone down when we went to Changi Beach because we couldn't take our hands off each other or think of anyone else. We didn't care how many people saw us kissing passionately outside the departure lounge as the last boarding call for the Qantas flight to London sounded. I knew as I walked down the aisle to business class that I was still smelling of sex and of Greg and it didn't worry me one bit.

It seemed no sooner had the undercarriage been retracted that I looked up to see one of the pilots standing in the aisle beside me. Oh God I thought someone must have complained. But he was there to let me know I had been upgraded to first class. I asked him if it had been organised by Dr. House but apparently Greg had nothing to do with it. Suddenly I thought of Phillipa and then I remembered the envelope that Audrey had handed to me as I left Raffles.

I had seen Phillipa's distinctive handwriting once before when she replied to Greg's note about the trip to Changi. There was just my name on the envelope nothing as melodramatic as "...in the event of my death" but that is what it was all the same.

As I read the first few words I could almost hear her beautiful voice and smiled at the memory. But before I reached the end of the first paragraph I gasped in shock.

My dear Stacy,

Thank you for the kindness and generosity you have shown me in allowing my intrusion on your time with Gregory House. I can remember what it was like to be in love the way you are now and I am not sure I would have been as sanguine or welcoming to an ancient stranger. What you did not know and I was not sure of, until Audrey told me what you had said in the car at Changi Beach about Greg's previous visit, was that I had met him before.

Indeed, I knew him in 1966 when he was a child. It was the first time I had been back since the war had ended. Greg was staying in Singapore with my friends Commander John Monteath and his wife Diana, a navy couple stationed at HMS Terror the Royal Navy Shore Establishment. Greg's mother, a delightful woman, was in hospital her shoulder had been badly injured in a fall. His father was on R&R leave from Vietnam. Maybe it was the effect of the war over there but we all throught he treated his son very shabbily.

His father didn't even attend the party Diana arranged for Greg's seventh birthday at the Officers' Club. Greg did his best to hide how terribly hurt he was. He told Diana he still wanted to do the party piece they had rehearsed for his father to hear. That poor little boy sang "Mad Dogs and Englishmen" with tears running down his cheeks.

John Monteath was a clearance diver and a specialist in underwater mine demolition. He had met Greg's father when he gave a series of instructional lectures to the US Marine Corps and he was furious with the man after seeing the way he treated his son. John asked me if I could stay with them and back up Diana in looking after Greg as he was going to sea the following day and would be away for the next two months. I was more than happy to oblige because even at seven Greg was a bright and entertaining companion.

You are probably wondering why he did not recognise my name. Well that is because no one called me Phillipa then. I was either addressed as "Pip", "Mrs Fox-Robinson" or "Mem-sahib" the Raj was still alive even though it was on it's last legs. Greg called me "Foxy" because he thought it was funny and I loved it. I loved him too. I had a son who died when he was still a baby. Being around Greg helped me to recover in part from my own grief. If my son was alive today he would be 63. Had he lived, had he been anything like Gregory House, I would have been so proud.

I am not surprised he grew up to be a doctor or the specialty he chose. I used to take Greg to the hospital each day to visit his mother. He was interested in everything, the equipment what illnesses people had and displayed an almost goulish fascination with surgery. One day I left him with his mother as I went to get her a magazine. When I came back she was asleep and he was gone. He had told the nurse where he was and I found him speaking to a young man who was in severe pain. I asked if Greg was annoying him and he answered that the boy was taking his mind off things.

On the way back to HMS Terror he told me about the patient who was scheduled for surgery the next morning. His leg was to be amputated because gangrene had set in following a poorly treated jungle ulcer. I felt as though my heart would break and I went to lie down. Greg spent that afternoon looking up things in the Encyclopaedia Brittanica at dinner he announced to Diana and myself that he was going to be a doctor when he grew up. We both thought he would want to be a surgeon but he surprised us saying that he wanted to be a diagnostician. After he'd gone to bed Diana and I looked up the word "diagnostician" in the encyclopaedia.

Stacy, I wanted you to know Greg as I remembered him all those years ago. He was a wonderful child and I feel privileged that I was able to see what a fine man he has become. Thank you again for so generously sharing Greg with this ancient stranger. He loves you so very much and I believe he has made the right choice in asking you to be his bride. Look after him, he is such a remarkable and talented man.

Noel Coward said, "We have no reliable guarantee that the afterlife will be any less exasperating than this one, have we?" and I know that Greg believes that white lights and visions are just symptomatic of the brain shutting down. However, I am hopeful that there is an afterlife because at last I feel ready to live again. If there is an afterlife I will send you back to Greg if you turn up first. and if Greg turns up before you I promise that if I am able I will turn him around and send him back to you.

Bless you both.

Sincerely,

Phillipa.

A steward came up to me and asked me if I was alright. My hands were shaking and I couldn't seem to get the letter back into the envelope.

"You're looking pale" He said but did not suggest it was like I'd seen a ghost. I felt like that though.

"Can I help you with that?" I handed him the folded letter and the envelope. I liked flying with Qantas not just for the safety record but also for the casual warmth and efficiency of the Australian cabin crew

"A very dear friend of ours died"

"I'm sorry." he found out the reason the letter would go back. "There are photographs in here. Did you know?

"No." I said he handed me three photographs. The first was of Andrew and Phillipa dancing the bridal waltz. The second was Phillipa and the Orang Utan and the third was the honeymooners at the foot of the Changi Tree.

I realised the Steward had gasped.

"This was our friend, Phillipa" I said showing him the photograph with Ah Meng and the baby Orang.

"Forgive me" he said "I couldn't help but notice. There was a photograph of a tree."

"The Changi Tree" I said.

"Do you have any idea how rare that photograph is?"

"Is it?"

"You need to keep it very safe. I have only ever heard descriptions of it. Never seen a photograph. I got the impression none were left after the fall of Singapore"

"Phillipa was a prisoner of war."

"When did she die?"

"Yesterday"

"She must have been an incredible woman."

"She was."

"I had an uncle who died in Changi. There were a lot of Australians there."

"Phillipa was born in Malaysia, well she called it Malaya, she was the daughter of a planter. Her husband and her baby were both killed."

"Would you like a brandy?" he asked

"Yes please"

"Let's hope she is with her husband and baby now." he said.

"Oh God I hope so." I said

Again the letter would not go into the envelope. There was another photograph it was a picture of Greg and Phillipa he had taken it by holding the camera at arms length as they both looked into the lens. They had only met moments before but looked as though they had always known each other.

"Is that your husband with her?"

"Yes." I said smiling. It did not feel as though I was telling a lie. It was what happened later that made a liar of me.

Greg never came to London the next time I saw him was when I flew back home early to find him facing the possibility of amputation. It was not the time to show him the letter from the woman he had called "Foxy" when he was a child.

But as each hour passed and the pain grew worse I clung to the joke she had used to lighten the end of the letter. "... if Greg turns up before you I promise that if I am able I will turn him around and send him back to you."

Greg was technically dead for over a minute and again I wondered if maybe Phillipa had known something. He saw something but not what he told the students in the lecture hall that he had seen. He did not treat either of those patients until nearly three years after the infarction. Yes, House lied.

I wondered if he had seen Phillipa and if she had turned him around as she had promised.


	7. EPILOGUE

BREAKFAST WITH AN ORANG UTAN - Epilogue

"Someday I'll find you, again" - Noel Coward

They took more than dead muscle away when they operated on Greg for the second time. They cut away his trust, his freedom and his optimism. They took his strength, courage and humour leaving only pain behind. Maybe this was the middle ground surgically but I knew they had cut to the very boundaries of his ability or desire to survive.

I couldn't blame the doctors there was only one person at fault I knew it and Greg knew it. I could see it in his dull pain-filled eyes, hear it in every shuddering intake of breath. I thought I was saving his life, I was told I had saved his life but for Greg this wasn't living, instead I had condemned him to a life sentence imprisoned by chronic pain and shackled by his shockingly damaged leg.

Jim Wilson and I took turns watching him and once before dawn when I was going down the corridor I thought I heard him scream my name. "Phillipa thought she heard Andrew screaming her name just before dawn one morning." Greg had told me in Singapore. Wondering if Greg had died in that moment I rushed back to his room. Wilson was dabbing Greg's face gently with a cool cloth. His face was wet with perspiration and tears he was in agony.

"Take over here Stacy" said Wilson handing me the cloth.

"I'm going to make them up the morphine." He squeezed Greg's hand but Greg was almost beyond hearing or understanding.

"I thought the operation was supposed to take away the pain." I said.

"So did we all. Greg knew. He called it" and with that Wilson was out the door.

I looked down into the face of the man I loved and he looked through me as if I was a stranger. His head pushed back against the damp pillow his body arched as he could no longer suppress a scream of pain.

"It'll be alright, darling. Wilson has ..."

"Don't .. talk." the effort of saying those two words seemed to bring fresh beads to sweat to his forehead. He shivered.

As I reached out, to smooth his sweat filled curls away from his face, he jerked his head.

"Don't touch me."

I sat down in the chair by the bed not knowing what to do. Greg was now in extremis but I dared not try to give him comfort.

That was the beginning of the end.

I visited him everyday. Sometimes we would talk. More often Greg was silent. I thought maybe reading some of Phillipa's letter to me might close the widening distance between us but I only got as far as saying "Do you remember when I was leaving Singapore Audrey handed me a letter?"

"Forget about Singapore. Forget about Phillipa. That's the past. Nothing will be the same again." His voice was cold and cruel and it was full of pain.

"But, darling?"

"I said forget it Stacy and I meant it." This was a command. It shocked me and I obeyed. I didn't think about Phillipa or Singapore for the next five years. It was as though that part of my life had been instantly erased.

I hoped things would get better. I hoped he would forgive me. I hung in there. He needed so much help when they allowed him home but he only accepted my help when he could not avoid it. I tried showering with him but he didn't want me there seeing or touching his scarred leg. It exhausted him to shower by himself grabbing the newly installed bars for support and being forced to sit on a plastic stool.

He did not want to make love because he knew it would hurt. And he brutally rejected my efforts to pleasure him with fellatio. The moment my lips touched him he pushed my head away saying that if he wanted a prostitute he would pay for one.

Still I stayed, still I hoped. I didn't realise why he was considering going back to work when it was obvious to me he was not ready. He said that if I had a medical degree I would be aware there could no further improvement.

He recalled how I had hammered away about amputation. He told me not to bring it up again because they had not left enough muscle for a viable stump which would support a prosthesis and even if they had a high transfemoral amputation would take 60 percent more effort to be ambulatory and he had no more reserves. He also rammed the information home that because of phantom pain amputation might actually have been worse.

I reminded him about Lisa Cuddy talking about kids with prosthesis doing the 100 yard dash. He told me that was for my benefit no doctor knowing the possible extent of the damage would buy that lame sales pitch.

That was when he told me how I had let him down as a lawyer. Not only had I failed to honour his instructions but now the money was running out. He believed there was no way he would ever be able to sue PPTH because when I signed the papers authorising them to exercise the 'middle ground' option I had not rescinded the waiver of responsibility that Greg had given them prior to the first operation. I knew if there were grounds the waiver would not stand up legally. But he did not want to hear that.

I'm not sure if Greg ever expected me to leave but I knew I could not stay. So I took off my sapphire and diamond ring and left it on the kitchen table with a note saying I would be in touch.

I didn't get in touch with Greg but occasionally I would meet with Wilson who would tell me how things were going. When Mark first showed symptoms I met Jim for dinner. I told him then I was married and told him my fears for Mark. Wilson told me I should take him to every other doctor in the country before bringing him to Greg. I asked him if he was going to tell Greg about my marriage. He told me he was not in the business of inflicting further pain on his friend. Wilson did not return my calls after that.

When Mark got really ill and no other doctor could find anything wrong I felt like I had no choice. I knew I had to see Greg.

After the infarction Greg smelt of hospital, disinfectant and medication. It was only when I came to see him to ask him to help my husband Mark that I was close enough to inhale Greg's scent. He smelt as I remembered him and the memories I had so long repressed came rushing back.

There was no denying it, Greg was the one. I loved him and would always love him and that was utterly terrifying.

I was completely lost.


End file.
